Gordito: Chapter 5

The morning sun was already beating down hard. Juan Pablo had told them to meet at his property for a side job, just the three of them: Juan Pablo, Lee, and Marco. He said it was a minor job, nothing too intense, just some regrading, a few raised beds, a new section of gravel path. It would be easy money for everyone. But as soon as they got moving at 10 a.m., beads of sweat ran down Lee’s spine and perspiration fell from his forehead. The truth was that Lee wasn’t used to feeling this slow.

His damp shirt clung to his back despite being one of his looser items of clothing. He tugged at the hem to air it out a bit. He could feel the sweat pooling beneath the crease of his chest, a new sensation for Lee that developed with the last five or so pounds. His cargo shorts were soaked through at the waistband and ass crack, with his thighs chafing with every step. He regretted not wearing his longer boxer briefs to protect his inner thighs. Lee gained more than he realized and it was beginning to catch up with him. Even his arms were thicker and rubbing against his sides as he did manual labor. His breathing was a little heavier too, forcing Lee to take the occasional break to gather himself.

Marco, on the other hand, didn’t seem to notice the heat. He moved with fluid, easy efficiency. His shirt came off before noon, revealing a lean, sinewy torso. He embodied the kind of fitness one developed from long days outside and a metabolism that still burned like a furnace. Lee caught Juan Pablo watching him once, brow shaded beneath his hat, chewing the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. Lee hated how this observation made his heart sink.

By lunch, Lee’s thighs burned from all the chafing. He shifted awkwardly on the patio bench, biting back a wince as he adjusted himself. Juan Pablo brought out footlong subs and handed one to Lee with that familiar smile. Lee was ravenous and grabbed the sandwich in an unintentionally greedy manner.

“You’ve been working hard,” Juan Pablo said, squeezing his shoulder.

“Feels like I’m dragging today,” Lee tried to smile.

Juan Pablo chuckled. “The sun is harder on big boys.” He gave a wink, but it landed wrong– somehow comforting and patronizing at the same time.

Marco sat across from them, downing his soda and wiping his forehead with a bandana. He didn’t look tired. Just focused.

“You always eat like this on job sites?” Marco asked, grinning, while Lee stuffed his face.

Juan Pablo shrugged. “You want good work, you feed your men.”

Marco nodded, but Lee saw the way his eyes flicked to Lee’s stomach, now visibly doming over the waistband of his shorts and pressing against the edge of the table as he leaned forward. The sweat stains pooling under his chest were made more obvious as he bloated up with food and soda. Lee tucked his shoulders back and tried to hide his belly.

After lunch, they returned to work, sweat-slick and drowsy. Juan Pablo focused on placing stones along the new path. He called Marco over frequently: “Give me a hand here,” “What do you think of this angle?” and praised him out loud.

“Good instincts, Marco. You’ve done this before?”

Lee pretended not to listen, jaw tight as he raked gravel under the midday sun. His shirt clung uncomfortably to his belly and chest, now completely damp with sweat, and every step set his thighs rubbing. He felt heavier than ever and was conscious of his slow movements and heavy breathing. When he caught sight of his reflection in the truck window and hated what he saw: swollen bulbous rolls of fat transforming his silhouette. Lee was no longer “just filling out.” He was getting fat. And Juan Pablo barely looked at him.

By the time the sun dipped low and shadows stretched across the yard, Lee was done pretending. He stayed behind to help clean up, jaw tight, silence louder than words.

Juan Pablo tossed a tarp over the gravel pile, then turned to him. “You good?”

Lee just stared.

“You’ve been quiet,” Juan Pablo said, walking closer. “Tired?”

Lee scoffed. “Guess Marco’s the golden boy now.”

Juan Pablo raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Lee muttered, grabbing an empty cooler. “Just that he moves faster, works harder. Doesn’t have to take a fucking break every ten minutes to keep from passing out.”

Juan Pablo stepped in front of him, standing firm. “Where’s this coming from?”

Lee dropped the cooler with a thud. “Maybe I’m just not your type anymore.”

The silence was sharp.

Juan Pablo stepped in closer so that their bellies nearly touched. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

Lee’s chest rose and fell, heavy with exhaustion, desire, and defeat. “That’s what it feels like.”

Juan Pablo’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t notice you? You think I haven’t been watching you all fucking day? Sweating, panting, that belly wobbling while you haul dirt? You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

Lee froze. Heat surged up his neck.

Juan Pablo stepped forward again so that his distended ball of a gut pushed Lee gently but firmly against the truck. His hands gripped Lee’s side, his broad, warm palms pressing into the soft freshly expanded flesh. “You think I want skinny? You think I want fast?” He leaned in, voice rough. “I want this. All of this.”

Lee swallowed hard.

Juan Pablo kissed him, hard and passionate. No testing. No hesitation. Their bodies crashed together, sweat-slick and needy. Juan Pablo’s hands slid under Lee’s shirt, gripping the softness of his belly, digging into the heft of his love handles. He squeezed, groaned, pulled him closer.

Lee gasped. “Here?”

“No one’s around,” Juan Pablo growled, lifting Lee’s shirt up and over his head. “You want to feel wanted? I’ll show you how bad I want you.”

He spun Lee around and bent him over the tailgate, tugging his shorts down. The air was hot on his bare skin, his breath caught in his throat. Juan Pablo’s hands were everywhere, kneading the ebullient fat, exploring, holding him in place like he was something to savor.

Lee moaned loudly.

The sex was rougher this time. It was raw, urgent. Juan Pablo praised him between forceful thrusts, his balls slapping against Lee’s plush rear, voice low and hot in his ear: “So thick now... you feel so good... look at you taking it...” He gripped Lee’s hips hard, fat rolling under his fingers. Lee’s thighs trembled, his belly flopped against the tailgate, sweat dripping onto the truck bed.

When they came, it was loud and breathless. Juan Pablo collapsed against him for a moment, lips grazing his shoulder. Then silence again, soaked in heat and the sound of their gasping breath.

Afterward, Juan Pablo helped him pull his shorts back up, then kissed the back of his neck. “Don’t compare yourself to him,” he said quietly. “He’s not what I want in my bed.”

Lee exhaled shakily, his cheeks hot. “You sure?”

Juan Pablo turned him around, cupped his face. “I’m sure. Look at you. You’re everything.”

Lee nodded, heart hammering.

And for the first time all day, he felt full– in all the right ways.